


nor youth nor age

by Hokuto



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life cycle of monkey-catching robots.</p><p>(More colorful version <a href="http://brief-transit.livejournal.com/83871.html">here</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	nor youth nor age

_I was a dry man passing dry days._   
_  
_

[ 雨を待っている男。]

  
Professor Nemuro takes his tea plain and weak, with dry, hard cookies that could pass for crackers. The taste is unimportant and goes unprocessed. Nemuro is occupied with a matter of consequence, or so he assumes; he had been assured, upon taking this position at Ohtori, that the project would be revolutionary, but his equations wind themselves into tangled circles and his computer hums, frozen on a blinking cursor, unable to proceed with its calculations. A variable is missing, or more than one.

He rises from the desk and turns to the chalkboard to find one of the students drawing on the equations. Where one unknown variable should be, the student has drawn a rough five-petalled flower; Nemuro takes the chalk away from him, wipes away the drawing with his sleeve, and replaces it with the proper _x_.

"Aww, come on, Professor Nemuro," the student says, "you never know, that could've been just what you were looking for!"

"Don't call me professor. We're the same age, after all," says Nemuro. This is an automatic false response he has coded into himself to avoid the appearance of pride; the distance between him and the hundred students of the hall does not come from age.

"You're stuck, aren't you?" the student says. "You can't figure out problems with just logic - it takes something extra. Something beyond reason..."

Nemuro looks at the entirety of the equation, and says, "Then explain why, precisely, you think that the addition of a flower would solve the problem of friction in this particular closed system." But the student only laughs and leaves Nemuro's office; the door closes behind him and shuts out the sound of clattering wheels.

Such are the days of Professor Nemuro: weak tea, calculation to no end, and the teasing of students whose names he never learns.

* * *

  
The lipstick smudge on the edge of Tokiko's cup fascinates Nemuro. The color is a dull red, eye-catching but not vivid; the texture is lined and cracked against smooth porcelain, a desert that displays its liquid history.

Tokiko fascinates Nemuro as well; she's a bright woman, if not a genius, and good-looking rather than beautiful, but there is something hidden within her studied pleasantries and overly casual comments, and Nemuro is just bored enough with his current project to be curious.

He finds the too-simple solution when he follows her to the glassed-in garden where she has no need to conceal herself. Her voice rings with passion, her movements with desperation, and it is obvious that the only thing Chida Tokiko hides is her concern for her little brother. A natural thing to feel; a natural feeling to conceal, when it could interfere with her work. Nemuro understands, although he has never had such concerns himself.

When Mamiya turns his face up to his sister's, Nemuro realizes that he understands nothing.

* * *

  
He watches Tokiko wipe her eyes. Probability states that he has seen people cry before, but this feels like the first time; no one can ever have cried like this in front of Nemuro, open and vulnerable, then wiped the tears away as if they meant nothing.

"Perhaps a genius can't love another person," Tokiko says. Her voice is light and sharp, lashing out at him for discovering her secret so easily, for seeing her cry, and Professor Nemuro agrees. If there is a word for the way Mamiya's existence has hit Nemuro like a thousand drops of cold rain, it is surely not love.

 

[ ティツィアーノにお辞儀をしている。]

  
The garden belongs to Mamiya as the hall at Ohtori is Tokiko's, and he appears to delight in sharing it with Professor Nemuro. He speaks of the roses with the ease of long knowledge, their scientific names and common names and the proper way to care for each breed and the meanings of every color.  
(rose of memory)  
Botany is not Nemuro's field, but he can appreciate the depth of Mamiya's expertise. The boy is intelligent, quick to learn, and possesses a good memory. He could even be a genius, given time and the proper teacher to cultivate his gifts.

Nemuro begins to bring his work with him to the garden. The Ohtori project must remain confidential, of course, but he has a number of papers that fellow scientists have sent him for peer review. He reads them with Mamiya, dissecting flawed arguments and testing equations, and Tokiko brings them too-strong tea. In a way this is a waste of Nemuro's time; if he is in the garden with Mamiya, he is not solving the problems he has been set at Ohtori.

The boy works through an equation from an article on electrostatic attraction in atoms, swift and silent in his concentration. His movements are graceful even in their economy, no motion wasted because he can afford to waste nothing; entirely different from Nemuro's graceless efficiency or the excessive energy of the students. After a few moments he shows Nemuro the problems he has found in the equation; each one is worked out clearly and neatly, with possible solutions included. Nemuro can find no faults in his conclusions, and says, "Very good. I'll pass this on to Professor Aizawa," but the praise seems inadequate, given the quality of Mamiya's work. Awkwardly, he reaches out and pats Mamiya on the head: he processes warmth (a fever; Mamiya gets them frequently) and short, straight hair (dry and soft, with a faint static cling; recently washed) under his hand.

He is unable to process, however, the blush that rises in Mamiya's pale cheeks, or the way the static in Mamiya's dark hair clings to his hand with a force stronger than anything Aizawa has described.

* * *

  
Nemuro can hear the students gossiping about the new effort he's putting into the project, and pays no attention to their crude speculations, misled by the cup he keeps in his office. Tokiko is only a comrade, although they work well together, without distractions or fuss. They are trying to solve the same impossible puzzle, reaching for eternity; what does student gossip matter? He has, however, come to respect her more than he had originally predicted. Her dedication is admirable, and the passion behind it, initially calculated as a liability, has become a valuable asset.

He hears her say, "Sorry, I don't play with high school boys," to one of the students, but as she says it her eyes flick over to Nemuro, and she's wearing a familiar, challenging smile.

* * *

  
He's explaining the latest development in computer microprocessing as Mamiya plays with a cheap tin wind-up monkey, a toy that some student left on Nemuro's desk as a joke, and then Mamiya interrupts him with a soft, "You really are brilliant, Professor, understanding all that. I can barely keep up..."

"It's only experience," Nemuro says. Compliments from Mamiya always upset his balance; most compliments he receives have an envious bite to them, but Mamiya is always sincere. "I've worked with computers for some time now. We could set one up here for you, if you're interested?"

"If I had two more years," Mamiya says, setting the tin monkey loose to stomp its way across the table. "If I had even two more years, maybe I could be as brilliant as you are," his voice cracking.

"You'll have eternity," says Nemuro; a weak comfort, when he and Tokiko are still frustrated in their work, but all he has to offer.

Mamiya touches one of the dried black roses in the vase on the table. "If I had eternity, maybe I'd waste it," he says. "I might keep saying, 'I'll study that next year,' and then never study, because there would always, always, always be a next year... Wouldn't you be disappointed then, Professor?"

"Nonsense," Nemuro says, "You could never -" But he is unable to determine the correct way to end the sentence.

 _(You would never waste your time.) I love you. (You could never disappoint me.)_

He clears his throat and says again, "Nonsense. I'm sure you would be very diligent."

"Mmm."

The garden is quiet but for the grinding of the toy monkey's clockwork, and then Mamiya says, "Professor Nemuro, have you ever thought - I mean, would you like eternity for yourself? Is it really something you would want?"

Nemuro catches the monkey before it stomps off the table; its feet beat against his palm for a moment, then slow and stop. It occurs to him that he is very much eighteen years old in this one thing, that he has never once doubted that he will always have the time to study, to work, to complete every project he wants to complete.

Mechanical noise irritates him, but the tin monkey's sudden silence is unbearable. Nemuro winds it up and sets it back on the table, to grind and clatter and move, and says, "Of course."

 

[ 二つの夢を見ている。]

  
There is an afternoon when the rain falls soft and grey and steady, for hour after hour, and as Nemuro watches it slide down the garden's glass walls Mamiya takes his hand.

"Mamiya?" he says.

"I only have a moment," says Mamiya, and he turns and moves against Nemuro, pressing himself close. "Please, Professor - there's only a moment."

"I thought - didn't you say your sister wouldn't be back until this evening?" Nemuro says, with no idea what Mamiya is talking about.

"Yes," Mamiya says softly. He looks up, his eyes wide and his cheeks turning red. "But all I have is a moment, and I want it to be you," his arms wrapping around Nemuro. "Please, only let me have this moment..."

Nemuro is lost, but he cautiously rests one hand on Mamiya's back. "Tokiko won't be happy with me," he says; that much he can understand, through observation of the students and of Tokiko.

"She can be happy with you later," says Mamiya, and rests his forehead on Nemuro's shoulder. "She really does like you, Professor, so you'll be kind to her, won't you? I think you can be happy together - but please be with me, just for now." His hands tighten in Nemuro's jacket. "You don't have to be gentle, it doesn't matter, just don't treat me like I'm fragile - Professor, please..."

So Nemuro's first kiss is rough, tilting up Mamiya's face and clumsily pushing his mouth against Mamiya's. It feels wet and hot and uncomfortable; even so, when Mamiya draws back slightly Nemuro is afraid, but Mamiya only places a lighter kiss on Nemuro's mouth and reaches up to take off his glasses, murmuring, "I like your eyes, Professor."

"Please don't call me professor," Nemuro says, the catch in his own voice surprising him.

"Nemuro-san," Mamiya says, smiling, and pulls Nemuro's head down for another, softer kiss. "You really are very kind."

Nemuro's unused heart races, his chest is tight and painful, and somehow his hand has slipped down to the small of Mamiya's back. He has no idea what he should do next, but Mamiya is clearly waiting for him to do something. "Mamiya," he says, "I'm not sure - I don't -"

"Haven't you ever - not even by yourself?" Mamiya asks, and Nemuro's shoulders hunch, waiting for the inevitable - _dull dry boring just a computer after all_ \- but Mamiya only laughs quietly, kindly, and leans against Nemuro's chest. "Oh, Professor - Nemuro-san, I'm sorry. I'm being terribly cruel to you, aren't I... Will you still let me be a little selfish?"

"If - if you want," says Nemuro.

"It's okay, I'll show you," Mamiya says; he takes Nemuro's other hand in his and guides it down, wrapping Nemuro's fingers around himself. "Here, just do this -" He breathes out with a ragged _haa_. "- no, a little - a little harder... Ah, like that..."

Nemuro learns quickly, and Mamiya's hips jerk towards him as his breathing quickens, his back arching under Nemuro's supporting hand, his head thrown back and skin flushed and damp with sweat. Fascinated by his reactions, Nemuro leans in closer, tastes salt on Mamiya's neck. Mamiya's fingers tangle and pull in his hair, his breath hot against Nemuro's cheek, saying "Nemuro-san, I -" and then his voice fails.

For a moment Nemuro is vividly aware of everything: the sticky warmth covering his hand and the freckles on Mamiya's sweat-soaked skin, their rough breathing, Mamiya's half-closed green eyes, the thick scent of roses rising around them, and all of these things are life, are love, are Mamiya.

* * *

  
"What do you feel about me, Professor?"

"... that you're beautiful."

"That isn't really a feeling..."

But Nemuro can feel nothing else, every sense overwhelmed by Mamiya.

"Professor, the truth is -"

"Yes?"

"... I'm glad I could meet you."

* * *

  
There is an afternoon when the sun beats, white and hot and merciless, through rain that refracts its light into a blinding brilliance, and Tokiko comes to him in his office.

Before Nemuro can even greet her she's in his arms. Her kiss is forceful, demanding; she tells him exactly what to do her as she strips off his jacket, as if they were working in the lab, and Nemuro obeys. This is nothing like the garden with Mamiya, but he can hear something fragile in her voice and he doesn't want to see Mamiya's beloved sister cry again, so he does everything she tells him.

But she cries anyway after they're done, her tears soaking into his shoulder as she weeps. "Why didn't you come?" she sobs. "He was asking for you, he wanted to see you, right until - why didn't you come see him?"

"Of course I'll come see him," he says. "I was only working, I'll finish this set of calculations and then come see him. I didn't mean to keep you two waiting," and he can't understand why this only makes her cry harder.

 

[ あなたの心近づいた僕。]

  
The ring clatters against the bottom of Tokiko's teacup and comes to rest, proof of an unspeakable offer. By the time Nemuro looks up from it, the man who left it is gone.

Nemuro turns back to his useless equations and places one hand against them. _For Mamiya_ , he thinks, and _if this is the only solution_ , but he can't process these ideas into _the path I must take_. Mamiya is the kind one; he would never be happy for a gift born from someone else's sacrifice, especially a gift he's never seemed to desire in the first place. No, he'll go see Mamiya as he promised Tokiko earlier, and they'll talk and share tea and work, and then Nemuro will know what he should do.

He never reaches the garden. He lies awake in the unnecessarily ornate bedroom he was assigned, still considering the man's proposal, and Mamiya comes to him, hiding his face behind a bundle of red and yellow roses. He doesn't recognize the boy for an instant, then feels ridiculous; of course Mamiya's skin is clear and brown, of course Mamiya's pale hair has always curled around his fingers. Hasn't he always thought it strange how little Tokiko and Mamiya resemble each other?

(rose of forgetfulness)

And of course, Mamiya whispers, "I want eternity."

Nemuro has often observed the students when they think he isn't looking - holding hands, kissing, more, with each other or with girls from the school. He could pity them, if it seemed worth his time. They have grown up soaked in love and stories of love, and so they play at it, tease it, torment themselves with it, question its absence or presence; they could never understand how with a single drop Professor Nemuro, unable to love, has been consumed without question or hesitation.

"It will be yours," he says.

* * *

  
Tokiko's slap turns his head and sends his glasses flying. "How could you?" she says. "All those students - they were just boys! They were children! Professor, how could you -"

"They made a contract," he says. "It's for Mamiya." She has to understand, there is no other way for the system to run without this energy - the numbers fell into place as soon as he accepted it. "Tokiko, we'll reach eternity together and give it to him. Isn't that all that matters?"

She slaps him again. "You're a fool," she spits, "and the only people in the world more foolish than you are the ones who called you a genius!"

She'll understand one day. A hundred students with their shallow lives and hollow loves are nothing compared to Mamiya. She'll understand.

* * *

  
While the hall is being rebuilt, he sits with Mamiya in the garden. Mamiya makes the tea now, and it is never too strong; as he sets out sugar-preserved roses and pours tea for them he says, "Do you miss my sister very much?"

"Mm. A little. But she'll come back." Tokiko is a passionate woman, he's always understood that; naturally she's still too upset about the fire to see that it was the only path to take.

"You're probably right, sempai."

"Of course I'm right," he says, and pulls Mamiya close. Mamiya settles into his lap without protest and curls up against him. "You'll see. Once we've obtained eternity, she'll come back to us..."

Mamiya doesn't answer. Mamiya has been much quieter lately, but then, he's hardly the same dull, clumsy Professor Nemuro himself.

Mikage takes one of the preserved roses, and the petals crumble in his mouth, as dry as dust.

 

[ 乾いた季節の思考。]

 _Grace to the Mother  
For the Garden  
Where all love ends._

**Author's Note:**

> Title translations:  
> [a man waiting for rain.]  
> [bowing among the Titians.]  
> [dreaming of both.]  
> [I that was near your heart.]  
> [thoughts in a dry season.]
> 
> Translations of "Gerontion" lines checked against [this site](http://blogs.yahoo.co.jp/fminorop34/folder/1508306.html), which was found by the excellent honeylocusttree, who also helped beta the fic. Thank you endlessly!


End file.
